


Like I'm Some Fool From A Film

by kopperblaze



Series: Fortunes [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Dougal the demiguise, Established Relationship, M/M, percival trying to be romantic, the universe hates percival, theseus worries and meddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9480374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: 5 times Percival tried to propose (and the universe hated him) and the 1 time he didn't.Set in theFortunes in American Slangverse. Can be read alone but some things might make more sense if you read that one first.





	1. Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can't let go off this 'verse just yet, here is a little ficlet :) I hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to [Hobo_ofAtlantis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobo_ofAtlantis/profile) for the beta <3 All remaining mistakes are my own.

* * *

 

“Percy, you need a holiday,” Theseus declared, marching into Percival’s office and sitting down on the visitor chair without so much as a by-your-leave. Percival looked up from the report he was poring over, blinking rapidly against the gritty feeling in his eyes.

“What?” His brain wasn’t capable of stringing together long sentences anymore. Not after reading through Abernathy’s reports for two hours. Sweet Morgana, that man should consider a career writing bedtime stories for adults. Turning a chase through half of New York to catch a wanted witch into a tale so epically boring it made your eyelids heavy with sleep was a special skill.

“You need a holiday,” Theseus repeated cheerfully, putting his legs up on the edge of Percival’s desk and making himself comfortable. Percival leaned back in his chair and watched with disdain as Theseus produced an apple from the pocket of his robes and polished it on his sleeve before biting into it. The sound made his right eyebrow twitch. He despised nothing more than the sound of somebody eating an apple, and Theseus, the utter bastard, knew that.

“I’m touched by your concern for my well-being, but I’m perfectly fine,” he replied, draining the last of his coffee and wondering if he had another headache relief potion stashed away in the back of his desk drawer.

“Yeah, right,” Theseus muttered around a mouthful of apple. How anybody was able to chew this obnoxiously was beyond Percival. “You’re as irritable as a mandrake these days, the bags beneath your eyes would be able to hold my grocery shopping for the week, your entire department is walking around on eggshells because you’re irritable as fuck. New York’s criminals are contemplating taking a break from messing with the law, because even _they_ know you need a holiday.”

Percival’s reply was cut off by a stern look and Theseus leaning forward in his chair. “And, worst of all, Newt is worried.”

“Newt isn’t even in New York,” Percival pointed out reasonably.

“Newt knows things.” Theseus waved his hand around vaguely. “My point being that my brother is worried, which is never a good thing. He’s sent me numerous owls inquiring about how often and what you eat, how much you sleep, and what vest you’re wearing. One would think he’s dedicating an overly long chapter in his book to you. Anyway, I’m done answering questions about your daily habits. And your wardrobe. I don’t even want to know what he did with the information about your vest.” Theseus shuddered dramatically. “So I’ve organised a holiday for you. Your portkey is tomorrow morning, I suggest you go home and pack. I hear it’s cold this time of the year in Paris.”

Percival blinked. “What?”

“Before you start blabbering on about work and ‘Oh no, I couldn’t, this city needs me’, I already cleared it with Seraphina and she thinks it’s a splendid idea.” Theseus finished his apple and threw it across the room straight into the bin. “She says you haven’t taken a vacation in years, which is ridiculous. I’ve already put it on my list of things we need to work on.”

List? What list? Percival’s jaw worked but his brain failed to come up with an appropriate response. Meanwhile Theseus had gotten to his feet and slapped Percival’s shoulder.

“Well, I better get going. I promised to help out while you’re away. Say, would you mind if I did some redecorating? Your office is so…,” he pulled a face, like words failed to convey just what Percival’s office was,

“Theseus,” Percival grit out, pinching the bridge of his nose. To his credit Theseus stopped his inspection of the office and walked back over to Percival’s desk instead.

“Seriously, you’re working yourself into the ground, mate. Can’t have that, it’d make Newt sad,” he smiled, putting a hand on Percival’s shoulder and squeezing, his own way of showing his concern.

“Go and enjoy yourself, everything here is taken care of, I promise you.”

Percival exhaled slowly. Maybe he did need a holiday.

“Let Newt study your eating habits, catch up on some sleep and have fun in the city of love. Just don’t name your child ‘Paris’ or anything like that. It’s tacky,” Theseus teased, ruffling Percival’s hair and ignoring the resulting glare.

“We’ll name the next ugly creature Newt adopts after you,” Percival huffed. Theseus only laughed in return.

~

Of course, Percival had stayed late at the office to finish up his paperwork. He’d then hurried home to pack in a frenzy, and had barely made it to the international portkey office by the skin of his teeth. That, in addition to the discomfort of international portkeying, body being squeezed and shifted and twisted, saw him arriving in Paris feeling worse for wear and nearly stumbling with exhaustion. Being director of Magical Security at least saved him the tedious process of going through customs. Percival stepped out of the portkey bay and into the busy entrance hall of Gare du Nord. The people bustling around and the whistling train engines formed a wall of sound that grated on Percival’s already frayed nerves.

He took a deep breath and willed the hazy fog in his brain away so he could _concentrate_ , scanning the crowd in an attempt to spot Newt. He caught a few flashes of blue, but always on the wrong person. Apparently people in Paris were fond of blue coats as well.

“Mister Graves.”

Percival whirled around to find Newt standing next to him with a shy smile. At the sight of him Percival immediately felt better, the tension of the last weeks draining from him.

Newt’s smile diminished somewhat when he got a good look at Percival, replaced by a worried tightness around his eyes that Percival wanted to smooth out with his thumbs. His fingers itched to touch, but they were in public so he kept a respectful distance.

“Mister Scamander,” Percival nodded his head with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, all he could offer Newt at the moment to convey that he was fine. “What a coincidence running into you here.”

“Isn’t it just?” Newt replied. “I believe we’re staying at the same hotel. Would you like me to accompany you?”

“Nothing would make me happier, Mister Scamander.”

~

The hotel was a nice little bed and breakfast run by a witch (who already seemed to be part of Newt’s ever growing fanclub of older women trying to mother him). She greeted them enthusiastically and handed Newt a plate of baked goods.

“Now you boys enjoy your day,” she winked and Newt blushed a fetching shade of red, a sight that Percival shamelessly enjoyed.

“How come old ladies always give you cookies?” Percival asked as they ascended the stairs to the second floor.

“I have no idea,” Newt shrugged, already stuffing a piece of croissant into his mouth. “And besides, we’re in Paris, so I get croissants, not _biscuits_.”

“Semantics,” Percival huffed, following Newt into their room at the end of the hallway. It was decorated in warm beiges and reds. The high windows flooded the room in morning light. The desk in the corner was covered in Newt’s research, Dougal sat in one of the armchairs by the tea table and ate berries from a bowl, and the sheets on one side of the plush looking bed were already messed up. It was altogether inviting and Percival silently thanked Theseus for arranging his little holiday.

Dougal waved happily at him and Percival waved back, watching in amusement as the demiguise snatched up a croissant as soon as Newt put the plate down on the table.

“Leave some for Percival,” Newt instructed and Dougal’s glowing eyes fixed on Percival questioningly, before he nodded.

Great, now Dougal was going to follow him around with food again, worse than Newt in his mother-henning.

Percival sat his suitcase down and walked up to Newt, pulling him into his arms. There was a crumb from the croissant sticking to the corner of his mouth and Percival brushed it away with his thumb.

“I’ve been told you’re worried about me?”

“I’m always worried about you,” Newt said, tongue darting out to lick his lips where Percival’s thumb had been a second before.

“There’s no need to be.”

Newt’s hands came up to Percival’s face and he traced his thumbs gently over the skin under Percival’s eyes. “Let me be the judge of that.”

~

Percival fell into bed and slept for ten hours straight (after very thoroughly kissing Newt hello), waking up somewhat disoriented and with a mild headache. The light coming in from the windows was murky, so it had to be early evening. Next to Percival the bed was empty, Newt already sitting hunched over the desk again, scribbling furiously. Percival watched the way the shadows shifted on his naked back as Newt wrote.

The bed dipped next to Percival. He’d been with Newt long enough by now not to flinch, taking the glass of water floating in front of his face without hesitation.

“Thank you, Dougal.”

There was a brush of fur against Percival’s arm and the empty glass was taken from his hand after he’d finished the water, carried away by invisible hands.

“You’re awake.” Newt had turned around in his chair. There was a smear of ink across the bridge of his nose and Percival felt like his heart was going to burst. How had he managed five weeks without Newt?

“You should’ve woken me,” Percival sat up and stretched with a groan. The water had helped the headache and for the first time in days he actually felt rested.

Newt shrugged and walked over to the bed in only his trousers, allowing Percival a good look at his chest, the flat lines of his stomach and the scars criss-crossing the skin.

“You clearly needed to catch up on sleep.” Newt stood by the side of the bed, still unsure of himself after all this time. Percival reached out and took his hand, tugging until he gave in and sat down. Reaching out he rubbed at the splatter of ink on Newt’s nose, making him scrunch up his nose.

“Merlin, I missed you,” Percival breathed. Now that he had Newt here with him he realised just how frayed he’d become around the edges.

“I missed you too. But the feathercones were much more difficult to find and one of mama’s friends needed help with her hippogriff farm and-”

Percival cut Newt off with a kiss, cupping his cheek.

“There’s no need to apologise, love.” He’d always known that Newt wasn’t going to stay in New York permanently and so far they’d made it work.

Newt looked down and bit his bottom lip, clearly still feeling some sort of misplaced guilt. Percival put his finger under Newt’s chin and tilted it up, waiting until Newt looked at him.

“None of that now. It’s all good and I want to hear all about these feathercones tomorrow.”

That, at last, got a real smile out of Newt.

“What do you want to do? We could go for a walk, or get dinner. Or order something in. Mrs Bernard already offered, she knows the cook from the restaurant down the street and it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Actually.” Percival pushed Newt down on the bed and rolled over to cover his slighter body with his own, pressing a kiss to Newt’s neck. His hand stroked down Newt’s sides, reassuring himself that Newt was here, healthy and whole. “I think I’d like to stay right here.”

“Are you s- oh” Newt’s statement cut off into a sigh and Percival grinned against his skin, relearning the path of freckles across Newt’s chest.

~

Paris was beautiful. Covered in a layer of snow it was picturesque, like a place straight out of a fairytale. Newt, who’d been here before, took Percival to the most important attractions and quiet little cafes off the beaten track. Percival got used to sleeping in, came to enjoy passing the morning in a cafe, reading the newspaper and drinking the best coffee he’d ever had, while Newt worked on his manuscript.

Some nights they’d go to the Giggling Veela, a nightclub not far from their hotel, run by a Goblin and a Veela. There they could sit close, dance to slow songs—if Newt wasn’t feeling shy—and nobody batted an eyelid.

The small box at the bottom of Percival’s suitcase became a burning weight on his mind. It had been sitting under wards and protective charms at the back of his closet for a while now and he’d packed it more on a whim than with real intent. With each day they spent in Paris though, Percival grew more confident that now was the perfect time to do this.

He’d tucked the box safely away in the pocket of his coat, feeling it’s weight their entire walk along the Seine. Newt was telling him about the creatures living in the river, but Percival had a hard time concentrating. Merlin, he hadn’t been this nervous since he was an awkward teenager.

Newt came to an abrupt stop and turned worried eyes on Percival. “Are you alright?”

“I...yes, of course,” Percival spluttered, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t managed to keep his nerves to himself.

“Are you sure?” Newt asked, his expression shifting. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?” The dejected look on his face made Percival’s heart clench and he stepped closer and cupped Newt’s cheek after casting a quick notice-me-not.

“No, of course you’re not boring me.” He pressed a quick kiss to Newt’s lips. “It’s just,” Percival took a deep breath, fumbling to get the box from his pocket. He was going to do this. He was going to do this _now_. “I wanted to ask you something.”

A screech interrupted them as an owl collided with Percival’s shoulder.

“What the heck?!” Percival was tempted to hex the stupid beast, but the owl hovered in front of his face and screeched again. It was then that he noticed the parchment it was holding out for him and his stomach turned. This couldn’t be good news.

Percival grabbed the letter and opened it, while Newt produced owl treats seemingly out of nowhere and cooed at the bird. Scanning the writing he groaned, allowing himself a few seconds to wallow in disappointment.

“What is it?”

“It’s from the French President. Picquery contacted him so he would contact me. Apparently New York is in shutdown, a hostage situation.” Percival tried very, _very_ hard not to be pissed that people had to get themselves kidnapped now of all times.

“You have to go back then?” Newt’s voice was carefully neutral, both of them not needing to say what they felt - neither wanted their time here to come to an end, for their little bubble away from reality to be burst.

“Immediately. There’s a portkey for me at the embassy,” Percival sighed, pocketing the parchment.

“You better get going then. I’ll pack your things and bring them along.” Newt’s smile was forced. Despite his sense of duty telling Percival to hurry, he pulled Newt close for another kiss.

“I’ll see you in New York. Be careful.”

Newt nodded, pressing their foreheads together briefly. “You too. Don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll try.” Percival wasn’t going to make a promise he couldn’t keep. Letting go off Newt he took a step back, then another, committing the picture to memory: Newt standing by the Seine in his blue coat, head ducked and watching Percival from beneath his messy fringe.

“See you tomorrow, darling.” With a _crack_ Percival disapparated, swept up in the hustle and bustle of the embassy as soon as he arrived, a portkey in his hands not five minutes later.

So much for having found the perfect moment.


	2. Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival's plans are once again interrupted, and a surprise guest arrives.

* * *

 

This time Percival was prepared. He’d made sure to get off work early, and it hadn’t been difficult to bribe Queenie into helping him prepare dinner. Always one for gossip, she was far too curious about the occasion to say no. He’d evaded her questions with vague answers, and made sure his mental barriers were in place, but she’d still given him a knowing smile as he set the table with his grandmother’s silverware.

“Good luck, honey,” Queenie beamed as she hugged him goodbye. “Make sure to tell us all about it tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Queenie. And thank you for your help.” Percival closed the door behind her. After checking on the table once again, making sure everything was perfect, he sat poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sat down in his favourite armchair. Now all that was left to do was wait.

~

Half an hour later the front door opened and Percival’s heart lept into his throat. He took a deep breath to calm himself before he stood up and went into the hallway. The second he laid eyes on Newt he knew something was wrong. The magizoologist moved sluggishly as he put his suitcase down and struggled to get out of his coat. He appeared subdued, unsteady on his feet.

“Newt?” Percival asked but received no reply. Stepping closer Percival put a hand on Newt’s shoulder. “Newt.”

Hazy blue eyes met his own, glassy and slightly unfocused. “Oh. Hello, Percy.” Newt’s voice sounded hoarse and nasal, and he coughed before rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“How’re you feeling?” Percival asked, taking stock. Glassy eyes, rough voice, coughing. He put a hand on Newt’s forehead, the skin hot against his palm.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” Newt mumbled, attempting a smile.

“Don’t lie,” Percival chided. “Let’s get you up to bed.” The fact that Newt didn’t protest as Percival took his case and guided him with a hand on the small of his back was testament to how bad he must be feeling.

“You should’ve come home if you’re sick,” Percival said once he’d sat the suitcase down by the foot of the bed, and started to unbutton Newt’s waistcoat.

“There was a sick kneazle,” Newt mumbled, allowing Percival to undress him like a child, only helping when he was absolutely required to.

With a flick of Percival’s wrist a pair of warm pajamas flew over from the closet. “Have you taken a Pepper Up already?” Percival asked as he helped Newt into the pajama top, doing up the buttons for him before kneeling down and waiting for Newt to step into the bottoms, pulling them up.

“No,” Newt shook his head and practically fell into bed when Percival pulled the covers back. “I’m allergic.”

That complicated matters. Percival sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed Newt’s sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“What do you normally take then?” Percival tried to stay calm and rational instead of panicking. He hated seeing Newt hurt, and he hated not being able to make him feel better.

“Muggle medication,” Newt shrugged and sighed as he pressed his hot cheek into the cool silk of the pillow, eyes fluttering closed.

“I’ll ask Theseus about it.” Percival stood up. “I’ll bring you some tea. Do you think you can stomach some soup?”

Newt made a nonsensical noise that Percival interprets as “maybe.”

Going back down to the kitchen Percival set the kettle to boiling with a wave of his hand before scribbling a quick note to Theseus, asking about for advice on the care of sick Newts. In an afterthought he wrote a second note to his mother, asking for her chicken soup recipe. He sent both letters off with his owl, Herbert. After closing the window behind the bird, Percival looked at the decked out table with a sigh.

Figures. The one time he tried to be romantic and all that. He put a stasis charm on the food in the kitchen and sent the silverware back to its place in the cupboard. Ladling out some of the pumpkin soup Queenie made Percival took the bowl and the cup of tea upstairs.

Newt was curled up into a tiny, shivering ball under the blankets and Percival’s throat tightened. Putting soup and tea down on the bedside table he sat down next to Newt again and tried to coax him into a sitting position.

“C’mon, love, have some soup. That’ll warm you up.”

Newt’s teeth were chattering and Percival ended up feeding him the soup because Newt’s hands were trembling so much.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled miserably, sneezing into the sleeve of his pajamas.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Percival rubbed Newt’s shoulders, glad to see the trembling subside a little. “Let me take care of you.”

Newt made another miserable noise and leaned against Percival, radiating heat. Percival gently carded his fingers through Newt’s hair, scritching his fingernails over the nape of his neck. Newt mumbled something against Percival’s neck.

“What was that, love?”

“I need to get up, it’s feeding time,” Newt repeated, pulling back. Percival barely to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said sternly, fluffing up the pillows and guiding Newt to lie back down. “I got this, I’ll check on everyone, make sure they are happy and healthy and get their food. You just stay here and rest.”

“Mh,” Newt appeared to be half-asleep already. “Miriam injured her leg, see if the bandage needs redoing.”

“Sure,” Percival replied with more confidence than he felt. He dimmed the light in the bedroom a little so Newt would be comfortable, then unlatched the suitcase and stepped down into it.

He had done the rounds with Newt plenty of times before, but he’d never done them by himself. Thankfully Dougal, after realising that Newt wasn’t going to come down today, helpfully pointed things out to Percival when he couldn’t find them or measured them out wrong.

“Thanks, bud. Whatever would we do without you?” Percival chuckled. Douglas blinked at him before a small, pleased smile appeared on his face.

Percival did a final walk through all the habitats to make sure everyone was alright. By the time he reemerged from the suitcase he was sweaty, there was straw in his hair, and one of the puffskein hatchlings had spit up on his shoulder.

Newt was asleep in bed, oblivious to the tapping on the window. Herbert hooted in annoyance when Percival finally opened it, dropping the red letter on the floor and not even waiting for Percival to get him any treats before he flying off again.

“Thanks, Herbert!” Percival called after him. His owl was a dramaqueen.

The red letter rose from the floor before Percival could take it to another room so Newt wouldn’t be woken up.

“NEWT IS SICK?! WHY IS NEWT SICK??? SINCE WHEN IS NEWT SICK???” Theseus’ voice roared.

“I’m never going to forgive you for allowing Newt to get sick under your care!” The howler stilled for a moment, almost contemplative. “Well, actually Newt gets sick a lot, so I can’t hold it against you. Mostly he just sleeps it off. DO NOT under any circumstances let him go into the case. Last time he hid the fact that he had a cold and spread his germs all over the suitcase, Dougal got sick. And then the occamys got sick. And then the graphorns. And then Newt again. It wasn’t a good time for anybody, let me tell you,” Theseus’ disembodied voice sighs.

“I’ll enclose a list of all the things Newt can and can’t take. If you’re unsure about something, owl me. He should be feeling better within three to four days. Also, I expect a daily report on how my brother is doing.” Another pause. “Make that twice daily.” The howler went up in flames, and a piece of parchment drifted into Percival’s hands. It contained a detailed list written in Theseus’ barely legible scrawl about the things Percival should buy.

“Theseus sent you a howler again, didn’t he?” Newt mumbled from the bed, still buried under the blankets, only the top of his hair visible.

“Yes,” Percival sighed, briefly lamenting the fact that once upon a time he’d lived his life without regularly receiving howlers from Theseus Scamander (not that the howlers were always directed at Percival, a lot of the time Theseus complained about other people but felt it necessary to do so in form of a howler).

“Sorry he woke you up.”

“‘S alright.” Came Newt’s mumbled reply, voice heavy with sleep.

Vaguely reassured that Newt was already falling asleep again, Percival went to the bathroom and got ready for bed, cleaning the straw from his hair with a spell. He hoped that Miriam had stayed settled for the night and wasn’t running around. Shaking his head Percival pulled a face at himself in the mirror. He was getting as bad as Newt.

Climbing into bed Percival smiled when Newt rolled towards him and pushed his face against Percival’s side.

“Did you drink your tea?” He asked lowly, reaching for his reading glasses and book on the bedside table.

“Mhm,” Newt nodded, wrapping an arm around Percival’s waist. “How’s Miriam?”

“She’s fine.” Percival raked his fingers through Newt’s hair. “No need to worry. You just sleep. I’ll get you medication from the apothecary in the morning.”

“Mh. Love you,” Newt said, his voice dragging on the words as he seemed to fall asleep mid-word.

“Love you too,” Percival replied, watching Newt for a few minutes before putting on his glasses and opening his book.

~

“Percy!”

Percival’s head snapped up and he nearly dropped his coffee. What the…?

He hurried out into the hallway to find his mother shrugging off her coat.

“Mother! What’re you doing here?”

“Now is that any way to greet your mother?” Isabella asked, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You wrote me about chicken soup, so I brought you chicken soup.”

“I asked for the _recipe_ ,” Percival pointed out, following her into the kitchen where she was already busy spreading out the containers she’d brought along.

“Percy, we both know you can’t cook. I figured it’d be easier to make the soup myself than write down the kind of detailed instructions you would’ve needed.” Satisfied that everything was in its place Isabella turned around and looked him up and down.

“You don’t look sick.”

“That’s because I’m not sick,” Percival sighed, wondering how he hadn’t seen this coming. He should’ve known better than to owl her.

“Then why do you need chicken soup? You only eat chicken soup when you’re sick.”

“It’s not for me,” Percival ground out between clenched teeth while steeling himself. There was no way she wasn’t going to latch onto this.

“Oh.” It was the kind of delighted ‘oh’ that Percival had feared. “Well, not that it’s any of my business-”

“Mother, don’t pretend.”

“-but who is it for then?” Isabella asked, eyes glinting as she stepped closer to Percival. “And why haven’t you told me about them?”

“I was going to, I just wanted to wait for the right moment.” Percival seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Perfect moments were difficult to come by.

Isabella raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. “Now is a good moment. How about you make us a cup of coffee?”

Percival resigned himself to his fate and went to make coffee while his mother made herself comfortable.

“Oh! Percival Oberon! Is this what I think it is?!”

Percival winced and turned around, wondering what she could’ve found that warranted the use of his full name. His mother was standing by the dining room table, a little blue velvet box in her hand.

Damnit. He had forgotten that he had left it out last night.

“Mother.”

“Were you going to _propose_ without telling your father and I about it?”

Percival swallowed and tried to come up with an excuse - in vain.

“I was going to tell you, I just...I wasn’t sure when or if I was going to ask him and-”

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. “Percy?” Newt asked, followed by a cough as he shuffled into the kitchen. He was pale except for two spots of colour high on his cheeks, his hair in utter disarray and the tip of his nose red.

He stopped dead on his tracks, eyes flitting between Percival and Isabella, who had the good sense to quickly slip the jewelry box into the pocket of her dress.

“Newt, meet my mother, Isabella. Mother, this is Newt.”

“Oh, um,” Newt flushed red and shuffled his feet awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. Percival couldn’t blame him. It was one thing to meet your partner’s parents, it was an entirely different thing meeting them while sick and in your pajamas.

“It’s wonderful to finally meet you,” Isabella took over effortlessly, stepping close and pulling Newt into a hug. He fumbled a little before returning it shyly, making Isabella beam at Percival over Newt’s shoulder.

“He’s adorable,” she mouthed at Percival before pulling back and taking a look at Newt. “Poor dear, you don’t look very well. I’ve brought chicken soup. Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll have Percy bring it up to you. We can have a chat and get to know each other once you feel better.”

Newt nodded, looking more like he’d been promised a date with the Spanish inquisition and turning to look at Percival helplessly.

“I’ll be right up,” Percival smiled, watching as Newt rubbed the back of his neck and nodded.

“It was very nice meeting you, Missus Graves,” he said, trying to give Percival’s mother a smile, before disappearing back up the stairs, sneezing.

“Percy, he is _precious_ ,” Isabella grinned, pulling Percival into a bone-crushing hug. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding him from us this long.”

“I haven’t been hiding him, mother,” Percival mumbled, allowing her to pat his cheek. Right now he had no ground to stand on, so he better did what he could to keep her in good spirits.

“You have to come to Sunday dinner once he’s feeling better. No excuses,” Isabella smiled and pressed the jewelry box into his hand with a wink.

“He’s clearly making you happy. I can’t wait to get to know him.”

Percival’s fingers closed around the blue velvet and he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re going to love him.”

“Of course I will,” Isabella laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Now, you take good care of him and owl me if you need anything else.”

“I will. Thank you for the soup.”

“Don’t forget, Sunday dinner!” Isabella called before the front door closed behind her. Percival groaned, though he couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest, turning the ring box over in his hands. The gardens of Graves manor were extensive and beautiful. Maybe a perfect moment would present itself there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your lovely comments and kudos <3 They are massively appreciated! 
> 
> Also, if any of you wanna leave me prompts, feel free to do so! Can't promise that I'll fill all of them, but I've got a stressful week ahead so distractions by means of fanfic are always good :D (especially if it's hurt/comfort ;) )


	3. Graves Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS! You're lighting up grey January/Feb for me <3 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! *whispers* the fluffiness won't last *cue ominous music*

* * *

 

Graves Manor was a sprawling property outside of New York. It was unplottable and invisible to no-majs, protected by a web of ancient spells so intricately layered that it was impossible to pick apart. Percival would know—he’d dedicated a lot of time to trying to understand and catalogue the different kinds of spells used. The large, white house sat surrounded by spacious and well-cared for gardens, an iron fence and high trees shielding it from unwelcome eyes.

To Percival, this was merely his childhood home, a part of his inheritance. The way Newt stood frozen to the spot, with mouth slightly agape and eyes wide, reminded Percival that the estate must look quite impressive to someone who had never seen it before.

Newt’s eyes turned to Percival, the look of slight nervousness he’d been wearing all morning now one of utter misery.

“Uh...are you sure it’s alright for me to join you? You haven’t seen your family in a while and maybe it’d be better if I left you to spend time with them.”

“Newt,” Percival tried not to sigh. He understood Newt’s nervousness, he really did, but they’d talked this through at least twenty times in the past two weeks. Stepping away from the gate, Percival pulled Newt close, then pressed a kiss to his forehead (Newt responded well to physical contact when he was stressed). “They know you’re coming and they’re excited to see you. More excited than to see me, I bet. Besides, you can let the beasts out for a walk in the gardens.”

“They’d like that, and I haven’t been able to let Augustus out for a while,” Newt contemplated out loud. Figures that he’d focus on the fact that he could let his nundu roam free above anything else.

“See,” Percival smiled. “Besides, I told you, we can leave anytime you want.”

Newt worried his bottom lip between his teeth and glanced between the house and Percival, his shoulders sinking with a sigh.

“Come on, love,” Percival kissed Newt before taking his hand and pulling him towards the gates, which swung open for Percival by an invisible force. The gravel crunched beneath their boots as they walked up the driveway, the garden around them heralding the approach of spring with little blossoms scattered around.

“Is that a car?”

Percival followed Newt’s gaze to the car parked in front of the house, the dark red metal of the body polished and shining in the light.

“It’s my sister’s,” Percival explained. “She’s always had a thing for No-Maj technology. And although he’d never admit it, Father likes going on drives with her.”

Newt started to veer towards the car, so Percival tugged a little on his hand, steering him back on track. “I’m sure Elaine will be more than happy to show it to you later. Merlin knows she likes talking about that car and how it functions,” he sighed, remembering many a boring evening spent listening to Elaine trying to explain no-maj technology to Percival, who was attempting to make the entire thing more interesting by downing a shot of whiskey each time she said ‘fascinating’; their father, whose head had kept falling towards his chest before he startled awake again; as well as their mother, who had nodded and smiled and said, “That’s wonderful, darling,” in intervals of approximately four minutes.

They reached the front door and Percival squeezed Newt’s hand. He didn’t get a chance to say anything else to Newt as the door was thrown open, accompanied by a happy squeak.

“Master Percy!” The house elf in the doorway beamed at them, her huge eyes practically sparkling with joy. “Master Percy hasn’t been home in so long, Riki is so happy to see him! Riki made all his favourites!” Riki’s voice got higher and higher with her excitement. When her eyes swiveled to Newt, Riki stopped bouncing on the balls of her feet. “But Riki didn’t know what Master Newt liked, so Riki couldn’t prepare anything specially for him.”

Next to Percival Newt flushed and shuffled his feet, spots of colour blooming high on his cheeks. Percival thought that he’d probably spent a good amount of the day flushing and blushing and most decidedly didn’t look forward to it.

“Oh, no really, please don’t worry about it, Miss Riki. I’m sure I’ll love everything you’ve prepared.”

“Master Newt call Riki ‘Miss Riki’!” Riki shrieked, looking at Newt with such adoration it was surprising that there weren’t hearts visible in her eyes. Percival concealed a chuckle as a cough. Newt had a special talent for endearing himself to house elves in ten seconds or less.

“Riki started working for my family shortly before I was born,” Percival explained, with Riki nodding along eagerly, wringing the yellow apron she wore over her blue dress in her hands. “She was my nanny and helped raise me.”

“Riki did,” the house elf beamed. “Master Percy was such a sweet little boy. Riki would play with him in the gardens a lot because Master Percy liked playing hide and seek.”

“And gobstones,” Percival added with a laugh.

“Yes, but Master Percy was never very good at it,” Riki said with a sly grin.

“No, I’m afraid not. Riki always beat me... Or let me win out of pity.”

Riki giggled and Percival grinned at Newt, who had followed their exchange with a soft smile, relaxing minutely.

“Everyone is waiting in the drawing room for the Masters,” Riki said, making their coats disappear with a snap of her fingers. “Masters will find the way? Riki has to check on the desserts.”

“Of course. We’ll see you later, Riki.”

Riki giggled and disapparated, leaving Percival and Newt in the grand entrance hall. Newt tilted his head back to look up at the gigantic chandelier, sparkling in the midday light.

“Your family is really rich, isn’t it?” Newt stated, sounding absolutely miserable.

“I’m...sorry?” Percival tried, a little at a loss. He was good at reading Newt, but occasionally the way Newt’s brain worked still left him wondering.

Newt looked at Percival, his shoulders hunched. “Nif is going to have a field day.”

Percival suddenly noticed just how many shiny things there were around in the entrance hall alone. “Let him have some fun, maybe he’ll exhaust himself and sleep tonight instead of finding new ways to steal my pocket watch.” It was an ongoing game between Percival and the niffler: Percival setting different wards up around his pocket watch and Nif finding a way around them.

Newt laughed, but it still sounded a bit strained around the edges. Percival decided that there was no point in delaying the inevitable and led Newt to the drawing room. The wireless was on, giving a background hum to the sounds of soft conversation drifting through the half-open door.

Percival squeezed Newt’s hand before he pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room. Conversation came to a halt immediately and Isabella sprung up from the armchair she’d been sitting in with a wide smile.

“Percy! Newt! So lovely to see you.” She rushed over, kissing a surprised Newt on the cheek before hugging Percival.

“You look much better, dear,” Isabella beamed, looking Newt over.

“Y-yes, I’m much improved, thank you, ma’am. Thank you for the soup as well, it was very good,” Newt replied, manners impeccable but eye roaming the room, never meeting Isabella’s.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. And please call me Isabella.” Her gaze strayed to the suitcase Newt was still clutching in one hand before turning to Percival, eyebrow raised in question.

“Newt is a magizoologist. The creatures he looks after live in the suitcase. I suggested he bring them along so they can roam the gardens. They don’t get out a lot, with New York being...well, New York,” Percival explained.

“That’s a splending idea,” Isabella said at the same time as a male voice boomed: “Creatures? What creatures? Are they dangerous?”

Isabella rolled her eyes and turned around. “Don’t be silly, Albert, of course they’re not dangerous. Percy and Newt wouldn’t bring them along if they were.”

Percival coughed and gave Isabella an innocent look when she narrowed her eyes at him. He had neither agreed nor disagreed with her, so he couldn’t be held accountable for anything.

Albert Graves huffed and got up from his chair, shaking Newt’s hand gruffly.

“Well, I’m glad Percival has finally decided to introduce you to us.”

Newt nodded, suddenly finding the carpet very fascinating. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

Albert watched Newt before turning to Percival, a small mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips that had Percival subtly shaking his head. His father had a special talent for making inappropriate jokes and riling people up. Percival hoped he had clearly conveyed that his father wasn’t to put Newt through any of this.

“Good to see you, son,” Albert said, pulling Percival into a rough hug. They weren’t usually the hugging type, Albert preferring a good handshake. But after the _Grindelgraves_ (damnit, Percival had heard it often enough by now that he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it) situation, his family had become a lot more tactile.

“Father,” Percival nodded, catching his sister’s gaze over his father’s shoulder. Elaine was grinning at them, enjoying herself far too much for Percival’s comfort. Usually it was her under scrutiny, their mother subtly trying to suggest bachelors from respectable families she should meet and their father protesting that his precious little daughter shouldn’t meet any of those “pompous ponces”.

“It’s good to see you, Percy,” Elaine gracefully got up and walked over, engulfing him in a hug and kissing his cheek.

“Newt, very nice to meet you. Percy has told us nothing about you,” Elaine smiled sweetly, hugging Newt as well.

“Oh, well, I suppose he’s been very busy and-”

“Dinner is served!” Riki interrupted and saved Newt from delighting Elaine even more by trying to explain why Percival had, as of yet, not indulged his family in the details of his private life.

~

Dinner was, thank Merlin, mostly a relaxed affair, conversation flowing easily, with both Isabella and Elaine doing what they could to make Newt comfortable instead of bombarding him with questions.

“So, Newt, you’re a magizoologist?” Albert asked, watching Newt from across the table.

“Y-yes, I am. Sir.” Newt said, a lot more hesitant talking to Albert than he was with Isabella and Elaine.

“And what does a magizoologist do?” Albert inquired, all business now. For all his laid back attitude, Albert Graves hadn’t risen to the top of his trade by being idle. Percival pressed his knee against Newt’s under the table in a silent show of support.

“I...well. I work with magical creatures. And I’m writing a book about them, to educate witches and wizards about their care.”

“Mh.” Albert nodded, while Isabella smiled at Newt.

“That sounds lovely, dear. Are there many creatures in New York?”

“Not...not so much, no,” Newt shook his head. “But I’m going to Africa next month. There are reported sightings of dungsneezles there.”

“Oh,” Isabella’s smile fell a little and she exchanged a look with Albert. Elaine, on the other hand, looked delighted.

“Do you travel a lot then?” Isabella wanted to know.

“Yes, yes I suppose I do,” Newt nodded, glancing over at Percival with a helpless look.

“Newt’s work takes him to interesting places,” Percival added, cutting a piece off his steak and acting like he hadn’t noticed the changed mood in the room.

“So...how do you feel about that, Percy? I mean it must be difficult for the two of you, being apart a lot,” Isabella failed to sound nonchalant.

“Don’t be so sentimental, Bella,” Albert interrupted gruffly. “They are young, I’m sure it’s exciting and all that. Besides, it means they get to have ‘Welcome Home’ celebrations a lot.”

“Oh you,” Isabella lightly slapped Albert’s shoulder. Newt looked between them and Percival could tell the exact moment when the words had sunk in, because he turned a rather alarming shade of red and looked down at his plate like it contained the secrets of the universe.

Elaine, taking pity on Newt, started to tell a story about the new intern at her office, effectively distracting Albert and Isabella.

Percival bumped his knee against Newt. “Alright?” He asked with a small grin. Newt’s cheeks still held a healthy colour.

“Yes,” Newt mumbled, very obviously trying not to pout at Percival’s amusement.  
~

“Cigar?” Albert asked Percival after dessert. Newt and Elaine were deep in conversation about the workings of car engines, Isabella nodding along and pretending to care, so Percival agreed, figuring they’d be at it for at least half an hour more.

“We’ll be in the smoking room, whenever you’re finished,” Percival told Newt, making sure that he was alright with Percival leaving. Newt didn’t even bother to turn around, waving his hand at Percival in dismissal.

Percival sat down in his usual chair in the smoking room, his father pouring them each a tumbler of whiskey and selected two cigars from the humidor. Percival clipped the end of his with a muttered spell, before lighting it. They smoked in silence for a few seconds before Albert turned to look at Percival.

“How’re you doing, son?”

“I’m well,” Percival replied. His father’s gaze remained concerned though and he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got good days and bad days, as is to be expected I suppose.” It sounded clinical, almost like it was easy. Percival didn’t think his father needed to know that his bad days were really bad, some of the lowest points of his life. Deep down Percival felt ashamed as well, because he certainly wasn’t at his best during those dark periods. Newt always managed to pull him back towards the light, handling him with infinite patience that Percival didn’t think he deserved.

“You’ll let us know if you need anything?” Although phrased as a question it sounded like an order, one of his father’s specialities. “We want to help you however we can, Percival. And you know your mother, she worries.” Which was his father’s way of saying that he worried too.

Percival really ought to write them more often. “I know, and I’m very grateful,” he replied, once more infinitely thankful that Grindelwald had stayed away from his family. “You don’t have to worry about me. You know Theseus, he’s around a lot, not letting me get away with anything.”

Albert chuckled at that. “Ah, that boy. Still remember him from when you were both in training. Got a big mouth on him, smart as a whip too. You should bring him next time, it’ll be good to catch up.”

“Of course,” Percival nodded. Theseus had spent a lot of time at their house back when they’d first met. As outgoing as he was, he had still been a long way from home and the weekends at the manor, away from the bustle of the city, had been a welcome break, a safe haven for the two of them, trying to be independent and stand on their own two feet in New York.

“I assume Newt looks after you as well?” Albert managed to look serious for all of ten seconds before he waggled his eyebrows and Percival snorted.

“He does, don’t worry.”

“Your mother says you’re planning to propose to him?”

“Yes,” Percival said, thinking of the jewelry box in the pocket of his jacket.

“Mh,” Albert took a puff of his cigar. “He seems like a nice sort. Bit awkward and shy, unlike his brother, but I think he’s good for you. You’re less grumpy,” Albert winked and Percival rolled his eyes, glad that at least his father wasn’t following it up with a dirty joke. It was good to know that his family accepted Newt, and that Newt himself felt comfortable around them.

“I’m not going to give you a long talk about being a good husband and all that. You’re a good man, Percival, and always have been. I’m sure you’ll make a great husband.”

“Thank you,” Percival tried not to preen at the words and let it show how much his father’s approval still meant to him.

“You might want to make sure your mother doesn’t go overboard with wedding preparations. You know how excitable she is,” Albert smiled fondly.

“Like anybody could stop her,” Percival sighed, and his father huffed a laugh around his cigar.

A shuffling noise broke the comfortable silence in the room, and both Percival and his father, turned towards it. The niffler stopped dead in his tracks, a shiny silver cigarette case halfway in his pouch. Nif’s eyes met Percival’s, his pink nose twitching. They stared at each other for a few seconds, Percival raising an eyebrow, before Nif broke eye contact. He carefully sat the cigarette case back down and looked at Percival, like he wanted to say “See? I’m not doing anything!” before scuttling off, his overly full pouch dragging slowing him down considerably.

Percival turned to find his father smirking at him. “Do I want to know?”

“No, not really,” Percival sighed.

~

By the time Percival and his father had finished their cigars, Newt, Isabella and Elaine were outside, surrounded by most of Newt’s menagerie. Albert groaned and shot Percival a long-suffering look.

“They’re going to nag me until Christmas about getting one of their own,” he sighed, though he wore a loving smile as he watched Isabella crouch down and pet a preening Dougal.

Newt was in his element, beaming at his beasts roaming the garden and answering all of Elaine’s and Isabella’s questions without hesitation. Percival stepped up beside him and wrapped an arm around Newt’s waist.

“Your niffler is already on the loose.”

“I know,” Newt said as he pretended to look long-suffering.. “Your mother and sister are quite fond of him. They actually gave their jewelry to him. You should’ve seen it, there were tiny hearts in his eyes,” Newt laughed. “Bet he loves them more than us now.”

“He’s easily bribed though,” Percival pointed out. He was relieved that everything had gone without a hitch so far. His family liked Newt and Newt was as relaxed as he was ever going to be, meeting new people. Bringing the beasts along had been a splendid idea. Percival would have to bring Queenie flowers or something tomorrow. She seemed like the kind of girl who liked that kind of thing (and wouldn’t feed them to the swooping evil).

“Your family is very nice,” Newt said, watching Pickett and Albert engage in a staring contest.

“I’m glad you think so,” Percival smiled, pulling Newt a little closer and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Please,” Newt’s shoulders sank in relief. Percival knew that even if he got along well with people, Newt’s resources for social situations were limited and he needed to take breaks to catch his breath.

After making sure that his family was busy with the beasts Percival showed Newt to his mother’s flower garden, housed in a greenhouse this time a of the year. It was far enough away from the manor to grant them privacy, and full of butterflies and - as Percival now knew, thanks to the many lessons on magical beasts from Newt - blossom pixies.

He tried to keep his steps slow, even as his nerves made him want to hurry. Newt was content to be silent for now, taking in their surroundings.

“It’s more beautiful in the summer. The greenhouse is charmed to vanish when the temperatures outside are high enough,” Percival explained as he opened the door to the greenhouse. It was warmer inside, though the charmed glass walls were so thin that it hardly felt like being inside. The garden was lush and in full bloom, the buzzing of insects and chirping of pixies filling the air. There were benches to sit on here and there, and somewhere further in there was a coffee table with four chairs where Percival knew his mother liked to take her tea, year round.

“It’s stunning,” Newt breathed, letting go off Percival’s hand and stepping further into the garden, turning in a circle.

“It’s my mother’s pride and joy,” Percival said, ignoring their surroundings and watching Newt instead, the way his eyes lit up with joy, his expression unguarded and happy.

Percival cleared his throat and reached into the pocket of his jacket, his heartbeat quickening. “Actually, I wanted to-”

“Riki has brought Masters’ tea!” Riki appeared with a _crack_ that made Percival flinch, his mouth hanging open for a few seconds.

“Seriously?” Percival muttered, contemplating stomping his feet like a child. This was a joke.

“Thank you, Riki,” he strained to sound friendly, because Riki didn’t know she had interrupted, so he could hardly blame her. He made to take the tray from her so she’d leave quickly, but Riki spun around and marched through the garden. She carefully set up the tea service on the coffee table, an etagere weighed down with cakes and scones towering in the middle.

“The elves made scones for Master Newt,” Riki declared, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet. “And clotted cream! Nestoy used to work for a british family, he did! And he says that scones and clotted cream are for tea time!”

“They are.” If possible, Newt’s smile had grown even wider. “Thank you, Miss Riki. And thank the other elves as well, please.”

“Of course!” Riki giggled. “Masters call Riki if Masters need anything else!”

She disapparated and Percival exhaled slowly. Right. He could still do this. Before a single word came over his lips though Newt sat down at the table, smiling up at Percival.

“I’ve missed scones. And a proper English afternoon tea,” he admitted, already pouring a cup for himself and wrinkling his nose when he discovered that Riki had brought coffee for Percival.

“You can’t get decent scones in New York. Though nothing compares to nana’s scones anyway. She used to bake them on Sunday mornings when Theseus and I stayed over at hers.” Newt launched into a lengthy story about his grandmother, her scones, and hippogriffs for some unfathomable reason. Then again, it was Newt so maybe not that unfathomable after all.

Percival sat in his chair and sipped his coffee, nodding along and pretending to like the scones, when in reality he barely tasted them at all. This was the third attempt ruined and he wondered if the universe hated him and tried to prevent someone as wonderful as Newt binding himself to Percival - providing he said yes, of course.

Some fifteen minutes later the rest of Percival’s family, and half of Newt’s creatures, joined them in the greenhouse and the tiny chance Percival still held onto vanished with their arrival. He poked moodily at his scone, ignoring Elaine’s sideward glances his way.

“What happened?” She whispered while Isabella told Newt at length about the different species of plants in the garden and the spells she used to maintain the greenhouse.

“Nothing,” Percival replied, just as Pickett fell face first into the clotted cream. He reached out and gently put the bowtruckle back on his feet, using a napkin to clean him up. Pickett looked utterly disgruntled, squirming in Percival’s grasp like a child embarrassed by their parent rubbing dirt from his cheek.

“Fine be that way,” Elaine huffed. “And here I was starting to worry that you’d be happy and pleasant for the rest of your life.”

Percival didn’t even dignify that with a response, too busy wondering if he’d ever get a chance to propose, or if he was doomed to carry that ring around for the rest of his life.

~

A week later Theseus sat down at the breakfast table and stole Percival’s cup of coffee as Percival absently wondered when he had even got here, before sighing dramatically.

“Percival.” He paused for effect. “Why has your mother sent my mother an owl? And why has my mother sent me an owl asking if you’d look good in blue?” Theseus slumped his shoulders forward, like the weight of the world had been put on his shoulders. “We’re all doomed now, you know that, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Percival look good in blue? Will the ring turn Percival into Gollum?


	4. Injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to massively thank you guys for your continued support and your wonderful comments! I'm still struggling with keeping myself afloat and not allow depression to suck me into its deep black cave, which consequently makes me very insecure about my writing. All your lovely words are stars in the darkness (ha, how poetic am I?) and give me the courage to continue writing and posting instead of letting that insecurity win. 
> 
> So. I just wanted to say that I appreciate each and every kudo and comment from the bottom of my heart <3333 thank you all who've stuck with me this far :*

* * *

4 - Injury

Percival wasn’t going to leave anything up to chance this time. He’d made reservations at one of the best restaurants in the city—wizard run and offering a separee, which the giggling witch at the front desk had been all too happy to reserve for the Director of Magical Security—and he’d reminded Newt several times that they were going out for dinner tonight. Percival was going to pick him up at their house after work and then they’d go to the restaurant together, which would ensure that Newt didn’t overlook the time while in his suitcase.

He had the ring and he knew what he was going to say (kind of). It was all in order and going according to plan. Percival wasn’t going to get bested by chance and circumstances again.

And then Karmenschek just had to burst through the door of his office, gasping about Grindelwald, who had escaped the British Aurors a few weeks ago, having been spotted by the pier. Percival jumped to his feet and pushed past her, the thirst for revenge setting his skin aflame and clouding his mind.

~

The moment they set foot in the warehouse by the docks, wands drawn and at the ready, two aurors staged outside, Percival knew that they had walked into a trap. It was eerily quiet, the air heavy with foreboding. He cast a silent spell, revealing that ten humans were present. The charm caused a light to flicker up where they stood and it prompted them into action, jumping from their hiding spots. They wore long black cloaks and white masks with holes cut into them for the eyes.

The two groups regarded each other for a few seconds before one of the cloaked figures stepped forward.

“Grindelwald sends his regards!” The man called in a taunting voice, and before he’d even finished speaking, another one of the wizards behind him sent the first hex flying through the air, jolting everyone into action. Soon, curses and hexes were slashing through the air like whips, the entire warehouse buzzing with the hum of magic.

Percival felt more alive than he had in a while, casting spells and deflecting the ones aimed at him, ducking out of their way. Ever since he’d been captured and held prisoner for months, his strength fading and his thoughts spinning in the endless, quiet darkness of his prison, Percival had felt desperate to prove to himself, and to others, that he still deserved to be head of Magical Security. That he could still fight, that he hadn’t become old, slow and useless thanks to Grindelwald. The adrenaline now rushing through his veins, blood pounding in his ears, was reassurance that he could still do it.

He’d put three of Grindelwald’s followers in shackles already when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Whipping around, Percival spotted the wizard who had spoken earlier break away from the group and flee up the ladder to the rooftop. He caught Tina’s eye and a nod was enough to send both of them running after him.

The metal ladder groaned and creaked with every step Percival took. He cast a shield before stepping out onto the rooftop, the wind tugging and pulling on his hair and coat. The wizard was halfway across the roof and Percival set off running after him, pushing strands of hair away from his eyes. Tina’s footsteps echoed right behind him and Percival’s hold on his wand tightened in grim determination.

The spell on Percival’s lips died when the wizard suddenly stopped, causing Percival to stumble to a halt as well. He saw something glint in the man’s hand as he turned around. A gunshot cut through the air and Percival’s body jerked. He looked down in surprise and found a spot of red blooming on his robes. He watched it grow with a sense of detached fascination, thinking that it was ironic—a follower of Grindelwald was using a no-maj weapon.

The pain only registered a few seconds later as Percival drew another breath of air. He didn’t get to dwell on it though, a spell hitting him squarely on the chest, and he could feel the magic slamming into his skin like a wave of fire. This time there was no delay, the pain coming over him with fierce agony as deep cuts opened up all over his chest. Percival thought he heard Tina scream, but she sounded far away as he watched the blood gushing from the wounds, soaking his shirt and splattering the ground. Percival stumbled backward, and his wand slipped from his numb fingers and clattering to the ground.

An invisible force pushed him sideways and the world tilted and spun wildly as Percival fell of the roof. He didn’t see the ground rushing towards him, only the blue of the sky, dotted with red drops of blood. The impact was hard and unexpected, tearing a scream of pain from his throat. Something in his chest shifted and snapped and his mouth filled with blood. Every move and every twitch of muscle hurt, wave after wave of blinding pain rolling over Percival. His chest was on fire, raw and open, his heart struggling to keep up it’s beat. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as he gasped for air.

And then, all of a sudden, the agony faded and the world around him became very still. It felt peaceful, like he was floating, like time was nonexistent and he could observe everything at his leisure.

He idly wondered if he knew a spell that cleaned blood out of fabric, in case he was bleeding all over the jewelry box still in his pocket. Newt was quirky, but Percival didn’t think he was quirky enough to appreciate a bloody box.

The sky overhead was very blue. Percival blinked sluggishly. He could hear people speaking—shouting?—but it sounded far away, like he was underwater. Maybe he wouldn’t get to give Newt the ring at all, not even in a ruined box, but instead, he would bleed out here on the pavement. Grindelwald would’ve succeeded in ruining the last good thing in Percival’s life then—without even being present himself. The fucking bastard.

Newt wasn’t going to be happy with him. Percival didn’t think he’d make it to dinner anymore, which was a shame. Newt always looked so fetching in his dress robes. Well, Newt looked fetching in everything, really. Especially in Percival’s shirts, which were slightly too big on him.

“Percival?”

Percival frowned, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each slow blink. There was something tugging on the edges of his mind, something important, but he couldn’t quite focus on it. The sky was so very blue, but nothing like the intricate colour of Newt’s eyes, green mottled with azure.

“Percival!”

The voice calling for him got louder, more insistent. Somebody slapped his cheek and it felt like Percival slammed back into his body, the peaceful quiet replaced by overwhelming pain. He gasped and felt blood trickling from his mouth, the taste of it making him want to vomit.

“Hold on, hold on, help’s on the way,” Tina’s frantic voice came from above him and Percival blinked, trying to focus on her. There was a smear of blood on her cheek and she was pressing something to Percival’s chest, probably attempting to keep his intestines from spilling out unsightly.

Percival was starting to shiver and it felt a little like he was drunk, incapable of focusing, his thoughts slipping through his fingers like smoke.

“Tina.” It came out as a whisper even though Percival had intended to speak out loud. Tina caught it though, her eyes turning to look at him. Percival didn’t like what he saw in them, didn’t like the way Tina pressed her lips together.

“Pocket. My...pocket. Give it to Newt? Tell him,” Percival coughed and turned his head to the side to spit out the blood in his mouth. Everything hurt, his body nothing but a raw, burning thing. “Tell ...him, I’m ...s-sorry.”

Tina pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You tell him that yourself.”

“Tina.”

“No. I’m not your messenger. You’ll tell him yourself, because you just need to hold on a little longer and everything will be _fine_.” She pressed down on Percival’s chest a little harder, like the sheer force of her words could heal him.

Percival didn’t reply, looking back up at the sky instead. He and Theseus had made arrangements a long time ago in case something happened to either of them. Their jobs put them at constant risk, so one night over a bottle of whiskey they’d talked about it, had written down their testaments and discussed the best ways to help Newt cope, to make things as easy as possible for him. They’d each written letters: to Newt, to their parents, to their other loved ones. They were well hidden, and should the worst happen they both knew where to find them.

Percival was thankful now that they’d done that.

“Help’s here. Percival! You hear me? It’s going to be alright now.” Tina’s voice faded and her face disappeared from Percival’s vision, replaced by that of two healers he vaguely recognised.

He was too tired to think about their names, closing his eyes and allowing peaceful darkness to swallow him.

~

The next time Percival woke he was in a sterile white room, a charm in the air above him shimmering green and red and orange as it monitored his vitals. He felt dazed and nauseous and the moment he shifted pain exploded in his body. Percival groaned and bit his bottom lip.

“Mr. Graves, welcome back. I’m Healer Dudding.” A healer stepped into Percival’s line of vision, a man with a kind smile and disturbingly messy white hair. “It was a close call there, but we managed to stitch you back up,” he said, flicking his wand and watching as the monitoring charm changed, nodding in satisfaction. “You had several broken bones from the fall, lacerations on the chest that were exceptionally deep, but thankfully missed vital organs. Not to mention that bullet lodged into your chest, which we got out. You can take it home as a souvenir, if you want,” the man winked. “All looks good now and we expect you to make a full recovery. I’m not going to lie, it will be a painful process, as your body has to heal so much damage all at once, but other than some scars there should be no lasting harm.”

Percival nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet.

“For now the best thing for you is rest. I’ll come by and check in with you later,” Dudding smiled. “I believe you have visitors waiting. You’ve been asleep for quite a while and we thought it better they stayed outside.”

Percival nodded again, finally managing to shift himself into more of a sitting position. The pain was intense but bearable, if he gritted his teeth. He’d live, that’s what mattered.

Healer Dudding left the room and Percival could hear voices in the corridor outside. They fell silent and then the door opened again and Newt stepped inside. He was wearing dress robes and Percival realised with a pang that he’d been waiting at home for Percival to come and pick him up.

“How are you feeling?” Newt asked lowly, his eyes darting from the floor to Percival, looking over his body hidden beneath the crisp white hospital sheets like he could see through them and catalogue Percival's injuries.

“I've been better, but I'll live,” Percival grimaced.

Newt came to a halt by the bedside,reaching out and then drawing his hand back again. “I’m so...I’m so _angry_ with you.” While he didn’t shout Newt spoke loud enough that it qualified as shouting coming from him. His shoulders shook with tension.

“What?” Percival asked, blinking.

“You got _shot_ and you were _cut open_ ,” Newt said, his hands balled into fists at his side. “I saw you when they brought you in.” It couldn’t have been a pretty sight and Newt’s anger was replaced by his chin trembling and his eyes glinting with unshed tears.

“I’m still here.” Percival tried to reach out and take Newt’s hand, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. Seeing Newt fall apart like this, when he was usually so reserved and composed, broke Percival’s heart.

Newt drew in a shuddering breath, obviously fighting for composure. “They said they didn’t know if you’d...and I...” Newt drew the back of his hand over his eyes roughly, like he was annoyed with himself for crying.

The silence between them stretched until Percival sighed. He was always the first to give in —Newt was far too comfortable with silences, even if they were of the uncomfortable kind.

“I’m sorry.” Percival ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, wincing when the movement tugged on the wounds on his chest. He would have to take a look at the damage later, sure that it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight. But what were a few more scars in the grand scheme of things?

Newt sniffed and gave the tiniest of nods.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. My job just comes with a certain risk,” Percival shrugged helplessly. Over the course of his career he had become intimately familiar with hospitals, though up until now he’d always been lucky and gotten off lightly.

“I know,” Newt replied in a small voice, exhaling and fighting for composure. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No, you don’t,” Percival shook his head. “I don’t like that your job is dangerous either,” he added, wanting to slap himself for it a second later. Why did he never manage to keep his mouth shut? Especially when he knew that discussing the dangers of Newt’s occupation was a battle he couldn’t win. Newt was far too stubborn and remained blind to the dangerous nature of most of his creatures.

“That’s different,” Newt bristled.

“How? How is it different?” Now that Percival had started it there was no way he’d back down. “I worry about you too. Because there are at least six beats in your suitcase alone that could kill you instantly. Not to mention the untamed creatures you go looking for.”

“Every human I walk past in New York everyday could kill me,” Newt huffed, like Percival was being completely unreasonable.

“C’mon, Newt, not this again,” Percival groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. A blinding headache was starting to bloom behind his eyes.

“It’s true. Humans are the most vi-”

“Vicious creatures on the planet, yes, I know. You’ve told me a million times,” Percival was starting to feel dizzy, his heart slamming very painfully against his ribs. “It still doesn’t mean that your beasts are harmless and frankly, what worries me even more than them being dangerous is you being blind to it.” It was getting difficult to draw air into his lungs and at first Percival thought the beeping sound filling the room was his ears ringing. But within seconds Healer Dudding and a mediwitch hurried into the room.

“Honey, we have to ask you to leave,” the witch said to Newt and pulled him away from the bed. Newt’s eyes flicked between Percival and the charm glowing red above him. He looked ready to cry, a hand reaching out.

“Percy-”

“Come on, dear. All will be fine, we just need to check him over.”

Healer Dudding stood over Percival and blocked his view. The man hummed thoughtfully and cast a few charms that tingled over Percival’s skin.

“Dorothea, bring me a calming draught, please? The one with lavender and valerian,” he instructed and the witch nodded and vanished.

“Your body has been through an ordeal, Mister Graves. Getting this worked up isn’t helping your recovery. You need _rest_ ,” the healer said firmly, but Percival was too busy attempting to draw air into his lungs to roll his eyes. He wasn’t very good at getting _rest_.

Dorothea bustled back into the room and before he could comprehend what was going on she’d poured the calming draught down Percival’s throat. He spluttered a little, but barely five seconds later a wonderful calm spread through his body and mind and he sank back against the pillows with a soft sigh.

“See, that’s better,” Healer Dudding smiled. “You try and sleep a little, Mister Graves.”

Percival’s eyes closed.

~

The next time he woke up the room was the same, but the lights had been dimmed. The charm above him glowed eerily in the half dark. Percival shifted with a groan. His mouth felt horrible and his eyes were gritty. Next to him a form moved.

Newt raised his head from his arms, pillowed on the mattress next to Percival, and turned red-rimmed eyes on him. He looked more wrecked than Percival had ever seen him: hair dishevelled and standing up in random places, eyes red and puffy. There were bruises smudges beneath them, standing out in stark contrast to his sallow skin. His robes were wrinkled and his lips looked like he’d been worrying them between his teeth a lot, swollen and red.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Newt whispered, even his voice sounding rough. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry. I was just...scared,” he trailed off. Sitting there with his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast, Newt radiated utter misery.

Percival reached over to take Newt’s hand (which required enormous effort on his part. Had moving his arms always been this difficult?) and squeezed. “You don’t need to apologize,” he mumbled, swallowing against the thickness in his throat.

“Oh. Sorry. Sorry, I should’ve thought.” Newt extracted his hand from Percival’s and reached for something on the nightstand. Putting a hand in Percival’s neck, Newt helped him raise his head and pressed a glass to Percival’s lips. Blissfully cool water slid down his throat, and he sighed with relief.

“Thank you.”

Newt nodded and put the glass back before wringing his hands.

“I really am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Percival said again, turning his hand so his palm was facing up. Newt reached out and intertwined their fingers.

“Just...when Tina called me, she...she said it didn’t look good. And I came straight here and saw them bring you in and...there was so much blood and you weren’t responding and they told us they weren’t sure-” Newt’s voice cut off with a pained noise and his grip tightened on Percival’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Percival repeated, squeezing Newt’s hand. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Newt nodded and rested his head on the pillow next to Percival’s, studying him with intent eyes like he was trying to assess that Percival really was alright. Ignoring the uncomfortable tugging on the barely healed skin on his chest Percival leaned over to press a kiss to Newt’s lips.

For a while they stayed like that, looking at each other and basking in the other’s presence. Eventually, Percival’s eyelids grew heavy and he tugged on Newt’s hand.

“C’mon up here?”

Newt nodded and toed off his shoes before getting onto the bed, shuffling awkwardly in an attempt to find a comfortable position for the both of them. They eventually settled down with Newt pressed to Percival’s side, his hand resting over Percival’s heart like he needed to reassure himself of its steady beat.

“I’m not going to leave you, I promise,” Percival whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Newt’s head and raising his arm —slowly as his body protested, Percival struggling to breathe through the pain —to card this fingers through Newt’s hair.

“You better not. Don’t go where I can’t follow,” Newt whispered, pushing into Percival’s touch. He minutely relaxed against Percival and his breathing evened out. There was no sound in the room except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Newt?” Percival whispered, fingers still buried in Newt’s hair. “Will you marry me?”

There was no reply except for the steady rise and fall of Newt’s chest in sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Percival take the bullet home and use that to propose in case he doesn't get the jewellery box blood free? 
> 
> Find out next chapter, in which Percival has to face an enemy far scarier than anyone he's encountered before....


	5. Permission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS! Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter! :D I squeaked with happiness reading each and everyone of them <3 It also made me very eager to get this out and posted - I've been reading some tips on writing this weekend and attempted to apply them. IDK if that was successful or not, but I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

* * *

 

5-Permission

Percival glanced at the longcase clock in the corner of his office and drummed his fingers against the tabletop in time with its ticking, the budgeting plans for the department forgotten in front of him. Time crawled by at the speed of a flobberworm. Percival jittered his leg beneath the table before forcing himself to stop. Drawing in a long breath of air he took twice as long to exhale. Repeating the pattern five more times managed to calm him down marginally.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew the jewelry box, pushed it open and sat it down on the desk in front of him. He had managed to clean the splatters of blood from it and the blue velvet looked brand new. Nestled in the plush darkblue cushion inside the box the ring gleamed in the light. In the middle of the dark platinum band sat a small sapphire, inlaid in a diagonal cutting of mother of pearl. Compared to the heavy gold sigil ring of the Graves’ family it looked delicate, though no less finely crafted. Percival’s father surely would have a thing or two to say about how untraditional it was, but Percival thought the ring would suit Newt. He wasn’t the type to wear heavy, flashy jewelry.

If he concentrated and squinted Percival was able to make out the magic woven into the ring, shifting and curling around the band. Spells for protection and to alert Percival if Newt was in distress, and charms to locate the ring, a necessity with Newt, who regularly managed to misplace his belongings.

Percival steepled his hands and sighed, eyes narrowing into a glare as he regarded the ring. Such a small thing and yet it made his heartbeat quicken and his skin tingle. The continued efforts of the world at large to prevent Percival from proposing only proved that it was never a good thing to postpone matters because the anticipation kept building up and eventually blew things out of proportion.

Percival grabbed the box and snapped it shut, pushing to his feet. It was time to get this over with once and for all, he couldn’t bear the taunting presence of the ring a second longer. If necessary he’d ask Newt while elbow deep in a bucket of raw meat as they fed the beasts, or while Newt was drinking his tea or brushing his teeth. No more planning and waiting for a romantic moment. Percival was _done_ with romance and considering that Newt had fed flowers to Carmelita —which Percival wasn’t going to let go anytime soon— he didn’t care much for romance anyway.

His aurors snapped their gazes over to Percival the moment he entered their office. Entwhistle, their newest recruit, even stopped chewing, his cheek bulging out with the bite of sandwich he’d just taken.

“I’m going to take the afternoon off,” Percival said. His team exchanged confused looks, which Percival pretended not to see. “In my absence Karmenschek and Abernathy will be in charge. I don’t want to be contacted unless,” he paused. “I don’t want to be contacted. All arising problems I’m sure you’ll be more than capable of dealing with,” He said sharply before turning around and walking out the door. “Good afternoon!”

Percival could hear the commotion breaking out inside the room as soon as he’d closed the door and smiled to himself. Maybe he should do surprising things more often.

~

Percival apparated into the front room and stood still for a few seconds, listening to the silence. Nodding to himself he took off his coat and scarf, hanging them carefully on the coat rack and smoothing out any creases. He closed his eyes and hung his head, then inhaled deeply and straightened up, squaring his shoulders. He transferred the jewelry box from his suit jacket to the pocket of his trousers, carelessly slinging the jacket over the back of the sofa as he walked to the suitcase sitting on the rug in the living room.

The latches snapped open with a _click_ and Percival stepped down the ladder, taking care to close the lid behind himself. The shed was deserted, so Percival walked outside and blinked against the bright sunlight. After the rainy, grey day the sun’s warmth and brightness was welcome and Percival allowed himself a few seconds to enjoy it, his shoulders sinking.

His gaze roamed over his surroundings, settling on Newt standing near the rocks in the graphorns’ habitat, checking over the baby. Under Queenie’s influence, and to Percival’s utter dismay, Newt had named the foal “Gravy”.

When he approached, Gravy lifted her head and danced out of Newt’s grip only to run towards Percival at full speed with a loud neigh. The first few times she’d managed to bowl Percival right over, in front of Theseus no less. It was hard to remain dignified, lying on the ground with a baby graphorn licking your cheeks and hair. A Locomotor Wibbly had thankfully ended Theseus’ laughter instantly, leaving both of them on the ground.

Percival crouched down and braced himself, Gravy barreling into him and pushing her head against his chest.

“Hello you,” Percival smiled and stroked her scaly neck. Gravy licked his hand and Percival’s skin tingled where her fins brushed against it.

“You’re home early.” Newt walked over with a food bucket in hand. His shirt was wrinkled, straw stuck out from his hair and Percival’s fingers itched to rub the smear of dirt from his cheek.

Samantha’s loud neigh broke through the air and Gravy butted her head against Percival’s jaw before galloping back to her mother. Percival’s knees popped as he straightened back up, brushing invisible specks of dirt from his trousers.

“I took the afternoon off.” Percival looked at Newt, at the casual way his sleeves were rolled up, muscles flexing beneath his skin as sat the food bucket down. Newt’s eyes looked bright, a little crinkled at the corners. The unbridled happiness he radiated when he was with his creatures always made Percival’s chest feel full, ready to burst.

“Did you?” Newt asked, his smile widening. Spots of colour rose in his cheeks when Percival pulled him close, their chest pressed together. Percival felt a little short of breath, gaze flicking from Newt’s eyes to his lips. He captured them in a deep kiss, his stomach somersaulting like it had done the first time. Every day with Newt was exciting and new and wonderful, filling Percival with a warmth he’d never known before.

Newt’s chest heaved against Percival’s when they separated. His hand was cupping the back of Percival’s neck, fingernails scratching over his scalp where the hair was cut short and Percival shivered.

“There’s something I’d like to talk to you about,” Percival mumbled, his hands tightening their grip on Newt’s hips.

“Oh?” Newt’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry.” Percival brought one hand up and stroked his knuckles over Newt’s cheek. Newt leaned into the touch with a soft sigh, eyelids fluttering before his gaze settled on Percival and he quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s a beautiful day, how about we talk over tea?” Percival suggested and swallowed with difficulty, his mouth cotton-dry.

Newt’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Jacob brought over some bowtruckle pretzels.”

“I’ll get the tea.” Percival had spent a few afternoons being instructed by Newt on how to brew a proper cup of tea. His first few attempts had been sipped by Newt with pursed lips and an expression like he was forced to swallow vinegar, but eventually —and after cursing tea to the high heavens— Newt had declared him fit to handle the tea-making by himself. Percival couldn’t deny that he felt a little bit proud of himself.

Newt likely would get distracted by a creature or two, so Percival took his time setting the table on the patio outside the shed. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and directed the china to arrange itself on the table. It was a plain set, the “good” china with the gold trimmings and hand painted flowers, which had once belonged to Newt’s grandmother, hoarded in Nif’s den.

Once everything was set and the tea brewed to Newt’s standards, Percival paced, sat down in his chair only to jump up again seconds later. He coughed against the thickness in his throat when Newt approached and mentally rolled his eyes about himself. What was he, a bumbling seventeen year old?

“I’m sorry, Augustus wanted extra attention,” Newt apologized and rubbed his hands through his hair, pieces of straw and grass dislodging from it. Satisfied he plopped down in his chair and poured two cups of tea, inhaling the aroma with a happy hum. Newt added milk and honey to his cup, the spoon clinking against the edges as he stirred.

“What did you want to talk about?” Newt asked, putting the spoon down on the saucer.

“Yes. Right.” Percival tried to inconspicuously wipe his sweaty palms in his trousers before he pulled the jewelry box from his pocket, using the fact that Newt was investigating bowtruckle pretzels to do so without the other man noticing.

Should he get down on one knee? Would Newt appreciate that or would it make everything awkward?

Awkward, Percival decided and sat down, the box hidden from view beneath the table. Something moving on the edge of his vision caught Percival’s attention and he turned his head. The niffler approached the table at impressive speed. Percival didn’t think he’d ever seen the furry little beast move so _fast_. Before any of the worrying implications made it to the forefront of his mind Nif pushed off the ground. The jewelry box was tagged from Percival’s lax fingers and a second later Nif darted back out from under the table and away.

“What the-” Percival trailed off and blinked owlishly. When his brain finally caught up he made to push to his feet, but a sharp pain in his earlobe had him flinching and sinking back down.

“Ow!”

Percival thought his eardrum was going to burst when screeching started up right next to his ear.

“Pickett, what’s wrong?”” Newt wondered and leaned forward in his chair.

If possible Pickett got even more agitated, reaching a volume that should’ve been impossible for such a small creature. He stabbed his spindly arms into Percival’s neck.

“Percy, what did you do?” Newt’s bottom lip protruded slightly.

“ _Me_?” Percival exclaimed, his breath caught in his chest and fingers clenched. “ _I_ didn’t do anything. I have no idea what he’s so upset about,” he gritted out, his eyes nearly crossed from his attempts to glare down at Pickett on his shoulder. The bowtruckle crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared right back. He stuck his tongue out at Percival and kicked his shoulder before hopping first onto the table and then dropping to the ground, setting off after the niffler.

Percival stared after the bowtruckle, his nostrils flaring. He clenched his fists tighter and pushed down the urge to overturn the table because Morgana’s saggy tits, what the hell?

“Percy?” Newt’s voice snapped Percival out of his daze and he cleared his throat. Newt wouldn’t like it if he smashed his teacups. Not while there was still tea in them, at least.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. Suppose he was angry because I...didn’t...I...forgot...I talked to the other bowtruckles last night,” Percival finally sighed, massaging his temples.

“Ah,” Newt nodded. Pickett’s jealousy was no secret. “I’m sure he’ll calm down in a day or two. Maybe bring him some cookie crumbs later tonight,” he suggested and patted Percival’s hand.

Percival snorted. As if. Pickett wouldn’t be getting any cookies for a long, long time.

“So? What did you want to talk about?” Newt asked.

“I just...wanted to ask if you’d like to go to the movies tomorrow.” Percival muttered. If only he had something to spike his tea with to take the edge off and make it easier to keep up a calm facade.

“Of course,” Newt replied, lips slightly pursed. “You could’ve asked me that over by the graphorns?”

“Yes, well. I wanted to have your full attention. So you wouldn’t forget. That’s why.” Percival took a loud sip of tea and grabbed one of the bowtruckle pretzels. He regarded it for a few second before sinking his teeth into it with more vigor than was necessary, already plotting how to get the ring back.

~

That night Pickett insisted on sleeping next to Newt on the pillow. He made rude gestures at Percival behind Newt’s back every chance he got. Once the lights were out Percival closed his eyes and attempted to relax and empty his mind of his swirling thoughts. It took him a while, but eventually his thoughts slowed and his mind grew heavy.

Something rustled next to his ear and Percival twitched. A second later something leafy hit his cheek. Percival grumbled and turned onto his side. The quiet lasted for all of twenty seconds before strands of Percival’s hair were roughly pulled.

“Pickett, beat i-”

Newt shifted and sighed in his sleep and Percival bit his lips. He didn’t have any mental capacities left to explain himself to Newt, so Percival kept quiet. But no matter which way he turned, Pickett kept rustling his leaves and poking Percival’s neck and cheeks with his arms.

“We’re going to have words in the morning,” Percival hissed as he stumbled out of bed and snatched up his pillow, marching downstairs to lie down on the couch.

He didn’t get a wink of sleep and tossed and turned instead, Pickett’s smug smile burnt into the back of his eyelids.

~

Nif kept hiding from Percival, not even venturing out at night to attempt and steal his pocket watch. Percival felt a pang in his chest each morning when it was still in its place, untouched. It fueled his anger. There was no point in missing the little traitor, who’s not only ruined the proposal but had enlisted the occamies to watch his den and prevent Percival from getting the ring back. Well, most likely Pickett was responsible for that, but Nif had clearly joined forces with him.

It was an altogether miserable situation, which reflected in Percival’s mood and had Theseus dragging him to the Raunchy Leprechaun. Admittedly, after a few drinks and outrageous gossip stories from Theseus, Percival felt better and not quite so murderous.

“So they had to marry quickly to keep it all hush-hush because otherwise her father sure would’ve hexed him all the way to India,” Theseus laughed, slapping his hand against the table. He took another swig of his beer, before his eyes narrowed at Percival.

“You know, woulda thought that by now you’d have made an honest man of my brother.”

Percival stared at Theseus and the corners of his lips started to twitch as pressure built in his chest. When it became too much he threw his head back and laughed until his stomach hurt. Percival wiped his eyes and made a strangled noise as he swallowed back another laugh threatening to come over his lips at the look of utter astonishment on Theseus’ face.

“What? Do you think that’s funny?” Theseus glowered.

“Yes.”

Theseus eyes narrowed and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for his wand and hex Percival on the spot for insulting his brother’s honour.

“I’ve been _trying_ to propose to him for weeks,” Percival explained and Theseus’ forehead creased in confusion.

“Trying?” He leaned even further into Percival’s space.

“Trying,” Percival confirmed and his shoulders slumped. “But there were owls and emergencies and then Newt got sick and then the house elves made scones and then I nearly died and got blood all over the ring box.” The alcohol made his tongue heavy and clumsy in his mouth and Percival took a sip of cold beer. “And _then_ ,” he paused and snorted. “Nif _betrayed_ me and stole the ring. All because Pickett is _jealous_ and apparently thinks that I need to beg for his forgiveness.” Percival looked down at the table and traced his fingertip through a small puddle of beer. “Not even Dougal will help me,” he lamented. “Pickett is a tyrant!”

Percival dragged his gaze away from the table, expecting sympathy. Instead Theseus burst out laughing, holding his stomach and wobbling in his chair. Percival hoped he’d fall off.

“Mate,” Theseus gasped. “Mate, the universe despises you.”

Percival rolled his eyes and took a swig of beer, slamming the bottle back down on the table.

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.”

“How could you not have asked Pickett though?” Theseus drew in a hissing breath. “Amateur mistake, Percy. Amateur,” Theseus shook his head and patted Percival’s shoulder, an unusually gentle smile on his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.”

Percival groaned and closed his eyes, his stomach rolling. He was doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Pickett and Percival go to war? If so, who will Newt side with? Is Theseus' idea of "helping" to paint a banner and hang it at the front entrance of MACUSA? 
> 
> Only one more chapter to go ;D


	6. Coincidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to be blown away by all your wonderful, lovely and thoughtful comments. THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH! We've reached the end of this little ficlet and I hope you enjoy the last chapter :)
> 
> (BTW, the title of this fic and the quote at the beginning of this chapter are from Brian Fallon's song "Honey Magnolia". While not completely applicable to this fic, it's a great song so give it a listen if you're ever so inclined :) )

* * *

 

6- Coincidence

 _Maybe I’ll be the One you never get over,_  
The thorn in your pride  
-Honey Magnolia // Brian Fallon

“Right, that’s the last one.” Theseus put the lid on the teapot and sat it down on the ground. He wiped his forehead with his wrist, no doubt sweating in his heavy-duty dragonhide gloves. On the first attempt to get the ring back Nif had nipped Theseus, who had blown the incident way out of proportion and had accosted Percival at work to complain about his injured (slightly red) and broken (without a scrape visible) hand. After this traumatic incident he had refused to help Percival without gloves to protect him from the “savage beast”.

Percival looked around to confirm that there were no more occamies or other creatures lying in wait for them. The surroundings were deserted and peaceful, without a blade of grass stirring, and Percival nodded in satisfaction. Time for step two.

He picked his way around the teapots littering the ground and crouched down in front of the niffler’s nest. At the first glance, it appeared deserted but Percival wasn’t stupid enough to reach inside—even though he caught a glance of the ring box sitting at the very back. A moment later Nif plopped down in front of Percival, shielding his treasures from human eyes.

“Hello there, Nif,” Percival greeted with a smile. He pulled a diamond necklace from the pocket of his trousers—he had bought it for his mother’s upcoming birthday, but sacrifices had to be made—and held it up, making sure the sun hit the gems and made them sparkle. Their shine reflected in Nif’s eyes, and the little creature sat up straighter, a tiny hand reaching out.

“This can be yours,” Percival cooed, holding his hand a little higher. “ _If_ you give me back the ring.”

Nif’s expression dropped and his gaze flicked from the necklace to the ground and back. He shifted on his hind legs.

“Oh c’mon. Just grab the ring and be done with it,” Theseus huffed. His voice broke the moment and the niffler shook his head like he was coming out of a diamond-induced high. His beady eyes stared reproachfully at Percival before he turned and stuffed the ring into his pouch.

“Nonononono damnit!” Percival dropped the necklace and reached for Nif, grabbing his hind leg as the beast attempted to burrow into his hoard of coins and trinkets.

“Theseus! A little help!”

Theseus hurried over and grabbed the niffler’s round middle, his gloves protecting him from Nif’s sharp claws.

“Got him!”

Nif squirmed in Theseus’ grasp and chattered unhappily, the volume increasing more and more as he was lifted up.

“Turn him over!”

“I’m trying,” Theseus hissed, the niffler worming his way out his grasp again and again.

“Hold him, I’ll try and reach-”

“What are you doing?!”

Both, Percival and Theseus froze and shared a wide-eyed look.

Fuck.

Newt stood with his arms crossed and Percival crouched a little lower. It felt like a basilisk was staring him down.

“Uhm,” Theseus said helpfully.

Newt made an enraged sound in the back of his throat and stalked over to them, taking Nif from Theseus’ grasp and cradling him against his chest. Percival hung his head and tried not to linger on the fact that Newt was practically _holding the ring_.

“Were you using Nif for your silly stealth practice again?” Newt huffed.

“Uhm.” Theseus withered under Newt’s glare like a flower in the blazing sun.

“Yes! He did!” Percival shot Theseus an apologetic look. There was no need for both of them to go down, at this point it was every man for himself.

“And you helped him?” Newt’s glare shifted back to Percival. From his perch on Newt’s shoulder shoulder Pickett waved at Percival with a grin. Hunching his shoulders inward and hanging his head Percival tried to hide his rage at the bowtruckle and appear suitably apologetic instead.

“I tried to talk him out of it.”

Next to him Theseus hissed. “Traitor.”

“I’m very disappointed with both of you,” Newt said, the corners of his mouth pulling down. His words felt like a punch square in the face.

 

Percival felt like he was scum and desperately tried to think of something to say, anything to wipe that expression from Newt’s face. But Newt turned and walked away, leaving Percival to stare at his retreating back as he petted Nif and disappeared in the desert habitat.

“That was horrible.”

“Tell me about it,” Theseus sighed, pulling on the fingers of his gloves before tugging them off completely. “You’d think I’d be immune to it by now but,” he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.

“I suppose we better let the occamies out,” Percival sighed, knowing fully well that it would take a lot more to redeem himself. Maybe if he allowed Augustus to roam around the apartment tonight Newt would be inclined to forgive him.

~

“We could hang a banner at the front entrance of MACUSA?” Theseus mused, forehead furrowed. “Or maybe rent a billboard?”

Percival narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

“No?” Theseus raised an eyebrow. “You know, your attitude isn’t helping.”

Percival pointed to his office door, and to Theseus’ credit, he left without too much of a fuss.

~

Percival poured himself another glass of whiskey and knocked it straight back. He rubbed a hand over his face and walked over to the window, looking out at the world dark and still world outside. It was 4 in the morning, but sleep eluded him. It had been a long week, the days dragging and the nights restless. Percival had searched Newt’s suitcase high and low for the ring, tried _accioing_ it, all to no avail. Possibly not even Nif knew where the ring was at this point. The suitcase offered a million different nooks and crannies to hide it in. Pickett was glued to Newt’s side, so Percival never got a chance to work things out with him either.

His bones ached and the skin of his scalp felt tight, extending into a headache at his temples. Percival sat down and imagined that he could hear his bones creak. Why would Newt want to settle down with an old idiot like him anyway? Maybe it was a good thing the ring was lost, and that circumstances had prevented him from popping the question. Maybe it was the universe saving Newt from the awkward attempt of letting Percival down gently or, Merlin forbid, saying yes out of pity.

Percival’s breath rasped like sandpaper as he exhaled and he dropped his head into his hands. His fingertips dug into the back of his neck and it took a lot of effort to convince himself that there was enough oxygen in the room to feed his lungs, that the walls weren’t closing in on him. The middle of the night was never a good time to think—or at least, not for Percival. What little optimism he had disappeared with the light of day and every bad thought he ever held got amplified by the darkness.

A rustle and a squeak echoed loudly through the room. Percival’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed at the little green figure on the coffee table, barely visibly in the weak light from the lamp in the corner.

“What do you want, Pickett?” Percival snapped. Pickett tilted his head to the side, his leaves swaying. His face was hidden in the shadows.

“Actually, you know what? I’m not in the mood for this,” Percival muttered and got up. He didn’t feel like getting yelled at by a twig again. “You’ve won, alright? You’ve won. I won’t ask him and you can keep him all to yourself.” He stalked from the room towards his study. If he couldn’t sleep he might as well make use of his insomnia and catch up on some work. Maybe it would distract him from his spiralling thoughts as well. A tug on the hem of his dressing gown stopped him.

“Dougal.” The demiguise’s eyes glowed in the darkness and he held a mug out for Percival. The tea was still steaming, exuding a flowery aroma that Percival recognised it as the mix of herbs Newt drank before bed on days where he couldn’t stop fidgeting and didn’t sit down for more than two seconds before jumping right back up.

“Thank you.” Percival forced his lips into a smile as he took the mug, stroking his free hand over Dougal’s head. The demiguise leaned into Percival’s touch and patted the small of his back before disappearing.

In the morning Percival couldn’t remember when he’d fallen asleep. He woke with his head pillowed on his arms, a crick in his neck. The heaviness of his mind hadn’t disappeared in sleep and Percival felt like his thoughts were pushing him down, his back bowing under their weight.

The daylight hadn’t brought any of his optimism back.

~

“Oh honey, you still haven’t asked him?”

“Miss Goldstein!” Percival snapped. Queenie smiled and sat a cup of coffee down on his desk.

“You’re broadcasting that thought very loudly, it’s not like I could ignore it,” She shrugged. “Why aren’t you going to ask him?”

“That is none of your business,” Percival glowered, wistfully thinking back to the days when Queenie brought him his coffee with nothing more than a chipper “Hello, Mr. Graves,” and “Goodbye, Mister Graves.”

“Now that’s not very nice,” Queenie pursed her lips. “I’m happy we’re friends, Percival.”

“Would you please get out of my head?” Percival gritted through clenched teeth and rubbed his temples. He was doing a lousy job keeping up his mental barriers today, his scattered thoughts punching holes in the carefully constructed defenses and refusing to stay in order. Queenie was far too good a legilimens, seeing through learnt defenses of the mind with the ease of a natural-born. All attempts of recruiting her full-time for the auror department had failed so far. Queenie always laughed, shook her head and said “I don’t think that’s for me, honey.”

“Why aren’t you going to ask him?” Queenie repeated, perching on the edge of his desk. Her skirt definitely violated the clothing regulations, the hem slipping up to above her knee. Percival ought to scold her for it, but he had a feeling it would fall on deaf ears. Well, if Picquery let her get away with it he wasn’t going to concern himself.

“It’s complicated.” Percival took a sip of coffee and straightened out the papers on his desk.

“Well, it shouldn’t be. You’re just overthinking it.”

Percival’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. “I have a lot of work to do,” he said and grabbed the next file from his ‘high priority’ stack. Queenie sighed and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, stroking it down his arm.

“If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

Although Percival pretended to read through the report he didn’t comprehend a single line, aware of Queenie gathering her things and leaving, her heels clacking on the floor. The door closed behind her and Percival leaned back in his chair, head tilting backwards until he was staring at the wall. No way was he going to get off this lightly. Queenie was sure to call in the cavalry. Was it too late to book himself a portkey to New Zealand and flee before they arrived?

~

Nobody bothered Percival for the rest of the day and an uneasy sense of foreboding settled in his stomach. It felt like the quiet before the storm. In this case the storm arrived in the form of Theseus sitting in Percival’s living room, hands clasped in front of his face and watching the doorway.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For how long have you been sitting there?” Percival sighed and shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over the back of the couch. He walked straight to the bar cart and poured two tumblers.

“Not too long,” Theseus dismissed with a wave and took the glass Percival handed him. “So. What the hell?”

Percival took a swig of whiskey. “What do you mean?”

“Queenie says you’re not going to propose at all? Is this about the announcement in the New York Ghost? I already said I’m not going to do that. Or is it about Pickett? Because Pickett is sorry. _Aren’t you_ , Pickett?” Theseus pressed giving the bowtruckle standing on the arm of the couch a little shove forward.

Pickett glanced up at Percival, then hung his head. He chittered softly and kept his gaze down the entire time, more demure than Percival had ever seen him.

“Uh...thank you?”

“He also knows where the ring is and will fetch it for you,” Theseus continued and Pickett nodded vigorously under his glare.

“Let Nif keep it, I’m not going to ask,” Percival replied and swirled his glass, watching the whiskey slosh against the edges like waves during a storm.

“Why not?”

The temperature in the room dropped and Percival didn’t need to look up to know that Theseus’ was attempting to set him aflame with the power of his glare.

“Because,” Percival shrugged and threw back the rest of his whiskey. “Because I’m old and messed up and he deserves better. And because I _tried_ , Zeus, I tried five times and it didn’t work. That’s some higher powers telling me not to do it.”

“Since when do you believe in higher powers?” Theseus snorted.

“The point is-”

“No, that’s not the point at all! The point is that you’re a coward and you’re running away just because things aren’t going according to your plans!”

“I’m _not_ running away!” Percival put the tumbler down on the table when his grip tightened dangerously around it. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, so how about you shut up for _once_ in your life?”

“The hell I’ll shut up! This is about my brother’s happiness, I’m not going to allow you to mess him around like this.”

“Oh you’re not going to _allow_ it? What are you going to do, force me to propose? Because let me tell you, I can’t. I can’t, I’ve tried and I can’t and we’re never getting married!”

“What?”

Percival whirled around so fast that the world spun around him for a second. He was fairly certain he’d pulled a muscle in his neck.

Newt stood in the doorway of the living room, gaze darting between Percival and Theseus. With his brow furrowed and his lips pinched, he wore the same expression he always did when trying to work out thus far unseen behaviour in his creatures.

“Oh look, Percival, an opportunity! Why don’t you tell Ne-”

With a twist of Percival’s fingers Theseus fell silent.

“Did you just hex my brother?” Newt asked and his eyes widened.

“Only a little.” Percival got to his feet and smoothed out his vest.

Newt’s gaze lingered on Theseus for a few seconds before he nodded, apparently satisfied that no lasting harm had been done to his brother. He briefly met Percival’s eyes, then went on to study the floor. His freckles stood out in stark contrast to his skin and his breathing was shallow and quick, lips trembling. He looked like a bucket of freezing water had been tipped over him and Percival realised with a pang what it must’ve sounded like if Newt had only caught the end of the conversation.

“Newt-” he took a step closer and raised his arm before letting it fall limp by his side, at a loss for words. He wanted to gather Newt in his arms and take the misery he was radiating away. Like that the pieces fell into place, Percival’s self-doubt pushed aside by the selfish thought that he didn’t want to spend a single day of his life without this strange, beautiful man.

His heartbeat quickened and Percival hooked his finger under the collar of his shirt and tugged in an attempt to relieve some of the heat that had suddenly engulfed his body. It wasn’t a perfect moment, far from it. Theseus’ glare weighed heavy on Percival’s shoulders and Newt looked a second away from walking out on him. He didn’t have a ring, he wasn’t prepared and it felt like his vocal cords had disappeared, rendering him incapable of making a sound.

It wasn’t perfect, but perfect hadn’t worked out so far. Percival cleared his throat again.

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted to do this,” he started and reached up to loosen his tie, the collar feeling tighter and more suffocating by the second. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to do this but I kept getting interrupted and, well, I suppose I’m not very good at this to begin with.”

“You don’t have to say it,” Newt interrupted, his gaze still firmly fixed on the floor. “I understand.” He shifted his weight and curled his fingers into loose fists.

Percival blinked and the silence between them stretched out uncomfortably. Of all the different ways he had imagined this to go —and he had had a lot of time to imagine a plethora of different scenarios these past weeks— this hadn’t crossed his mind.

“So.” He broke the silence and practically felt Theseus’ glare intensify. This wasn’t going according to plan at all.

“I’ll...pack my things and be out of your hair by tonight,” Newt whispered. He looked small and lost and Percival’s heart stuttered in his chest.

“W-what?” It felt like Percival had been hit by a ‘Confundus’ charm, the world around him going a little hazy. Was this Newt saying ‘no’?

Newt bit his bottom lip and glanced up. His eyes were glassy and he sniffed. “I appreciate that you were waiting for a good moment and...and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But I understand that this isn’t what you want anymore and-”

“What are you talking about?” Percival asked.

“I...I’m just trying to say that I understand why you’re breaking up with me.” Newt squared his shoulders and raised his chin, blinking rapidly.

From behind Percival came a strangled sound.

“Break up with you?!” Percival’s eyes widened. “I’m not trying to break up with you! I’m trying to propose to you!”

“Oh.” Newt’s eyes grew round, “oh!” and he flushed a deep red. They stared at each other in silence, breathing hard.

“I’ve been trying to propose to you since Paris,” Percival said, and his voice only held the faintest tremble. “But there was always something or someone interrupting. And now I don’t even have a ring to do this properly and you deserve better and-” His babbling was interrupted by a tugging on his little finger and something being pressed into his hand. Pickett waved his arms at Percival when he looked down. In Percival’s palm lay the ring, sans box which had presumably been too heavy for Pickett to carry.

“I do have a ring!” Percival corrected himself, holding it out like a prize before he realised that he probably looked like an overgrown child, presenting a treasure to be observed. He coughed and shifted, forcing himself to speak in a normal volume and turn this into something less of a comedy show.

“Newt Scamander, would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

Newt’s flush deepened and his nod started out slow but quickly gained enthusiasm. “I-I’d like that.”

Percival bridged the distance between them and pulled Newt into his arms, their lips meeting in a kiss that had no finesse but a desperate edge to it, both of them seeking reassurance in each other. Percival eventually pulled back and lifted Newt’s hand, sliding the ring onto his finger and pressing a kiss to it.

“I love you.”

Newt’s answer came in form of another kiss, slower and more careful this time. His fingers intertwined with Percival’s, the ring warming between their skin.

From behind them came a string of protesting noises from Theseus. Percival briefly moved his free hand back to flip Theseus off while deepening the kiss, out of spite. He and Newt were engaged, they could do all the kissing they wanted. And Theseus was an insufferable bastard on any given day, so he deserved a little punishment. Percival knew he was going to pay for it later, hearing stories about the mental scarring Theseus had suffered for years to come, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Newt was smiling against his lips, and liquid sunshine was running through Percival’s veins until he thought he was going to burst with happiness.

Newt pulled back suddenly, brows furrowed.

“You didn’t steal that ring from Nif, did you? Is that why you were assaulting him the other day?”

Percival groaned and his head tilted forward, forehead resting against Newt’s. “There’s a lot I have to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully getting married isn't going to take them so many attempts! Then again, with Mama Scamander and Mama Graves already emotionally invested and having decided on a colour scheme, the universe doesn't stand a chance ;) 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this! :* I shall be back soon with a new story 
> 
> <3


End file.
